


Gluttony

by M_Alchemist



Series: Lost In This Moment [65]
Category: Fullmetal Alchemist
Genre: Angst, F/M, Post - Fullmetal Alchemist the movie: Conqueror of Shamballa
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-02
Updated: 2012-10-02
Packaged: 2017-11-15 11:11:42
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 436
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/526657
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/M_Alchemist/pseuds/M_Alchemist
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He figured he must be a glutton for pain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Gluttony

He craved everything that was Winry—her touch, her blue gaze, her laugh, her lips—her  _everything_.

Especially now.

He had always heard people say that you don't learn to value what you have until it's gone. Now he could certainly attest to that.

Now that he was a whole world away, he wished for nothing more than her warm embrace; to simply find comfort in her arms, especially on cold nights like these. He could have a million blankets and still be cold, because the cold that swept through him came from his own heart, and the haunting memory of leaving her behind. It had been a mistake, he knew.

Had he honestly thought that living without her would be easy? Had he forgotten the two difficult years he'd spent without her or Al?

His heart had been broken when he first realized he had begun to forget her, but the feeling of loss only fueled his yearning. He'd forgotten what her beautiful skin felt like or the exact mix of oil and lilacs that made up her unique scent or the pain her wrench would cause him whenever she had it collide with his skull... That was the reason why he would spend  _hours_  scouring his memories in search of her.

However, little by little, each memory of her—of  _home_ —started to be replaced by scenes of _this_  world. He was terrified that he would eventually forget about her completely. It killed him just to think about it.

Edward laid on his bed, wrapped in nothing more than his thoughts, like every other night. The extreme sense of desire and want he felt could not be satisfied at all—not with dreams, not with writing, and not with memories. Nothing could ever take him back to her. Nothing could ever bring  _her_  to  _him_. And  _nothing_  could ever atone for all those times he hurt her in the past.

He stared intently at his right arm with amber eyes, far more interested in the girl who made his arm rather than the way the moonlight hit the metal perfectly and made it shine.

She, just like the limbs she adored, had become a part of him in so many ways. Their lives had become entangled with each other's, never to be separated, even if they were worlds apart.

_Two different worlds._

After that last thought, Edward figured he must be a glutton for pain. That was all that remembering accomplished—utter and despicable pain.

And once again, like on many other occasions, he damned his younger self for ever taking her for granted.


End file.
